Wild Angel, page 6
This time she laughed. “I’m hopeless.”
“Everyone has different talents, Rory. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket or play a single note on the guitar.”
“That only sort of helps. I’m also complete shit at math.”
He clasped a hand to his heart as if she’d wounded him. “Cooking I can overlook, but math?”
“I need a job.”
Kevin fell silent, his heart starting to thud painfully. He knew Rory wasn’t made for the stay-at-home mom lifestyle. She’d spent too many years working long, hard hours. She thrived on it. But he didn’t expect she’d want to leave so soon.
And once again he marveled over how so much could change in five freaking minutes. He had come in here, ready to lay it all on the line for her, to tell her how he felt, to open his goddamn heart one more time to convince her to stay here and build a family with him.
So much for that.
His temper piqued, his ability to tuck his emotions away vanishing. “Fine,” he said shortly.
Rory frowned at the abrupt change in his demeanor, her next words coming more hesitantly. “I talked to Angel’s teacher at the preschool…about the possibility of me coming in a couple of times a week to lead a music class. She was really excited about it.”
“Wait,” he said. “What?”
“I think I might like to teach music. I was talking to Macie about it today at the Sparks Barbeque, and she suggested I talk to her cousin Ty’s girlfriend, Harley, about giving guitar and voice lessons at her music shop. She also said Ty would be thrilled if I’d join his local band, Ty’s Collective. They just play around Maris for special events, the Fourth of July, the occasional wedding and stuff like that, but I thought it sounded cool.”
She misinterpreted the frown still painting his face, mistaking his outright shock for anger as she continued speaking. “I mean, neither one of those things is going to bring in a lot of money, but I figured that didn’t matter. I have a ton of money saved up from all my years on the road and some royalties trickling in from songs I’ve written. And Callie paid cash for this house with Keith’s life insurance, so it’s not like we have to worry about a mortgage. I mean, I guess you have one with your house, but you could,” she paused, obviously nervous, “you could sell yours and live here…if you wanted. Or…if you didn’t…”
She sighed, and he could see from the discomfort on her face she’d said way more than she had intended to.
“So you’re staying here in Maris? For good?”
Now it was her turn to scowl. “I’ve said that since the beginning, Kevin.”
“I know that, Rory, but your decision was made pretty quickly, when you were buried in grief. I thought once some time had passed, you’d start to feel differently.”
“About what? Angel is mine.”
“She’s ours,” he corrected quickly.
“Ours,” she amended. “And I’m not about to run off and leave you alone to raise her. There’s also no way in hell I’d take her on the road. I could barely tolerate that life myself this past year. There’s no way I’d subject her to that.”
“You were unhappy on the road?”
“I’ve been miserable ever since that night at Sparks Barbeque. I made the wrong decision. And I don’t expect you to believe this, but I realized that before…” She swallowed heavily. Rory still struggled to admit Callie had died. He suspected it would take a lot longer than the month that had passed for her to come to grips with that.
Besides, he didn’t want her to say it, didn’t need to hear anything else. He took the two steps necessary to close the distance between them, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I love you, Rory.”
She smiled, and didn’t try to drown out his words with denial.
“I love you too, Kevin. I have ever since you gave that really cheesy toast at the wedding.”
He laughed, then went for broke. “Marry me.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “What? Just like that?”
Kevin nodded, not backing down. “Just like that? It’s been six years, rock star. I want to be with you. Forever. I want us to be a family. You, me and Angel.”
Rory reached up to swat away a tear that had fallen but he got there first, then he kissed her.
“Say yes, Rory.”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He studied her face, solemnly at first, but then his big, friendly, affable grin broke through. “Think we should go in there and get the baby’s blessing?”
Rory laughed. “Yeah. We probably should clear this with the boss. Before we do that, order the pizza. And the damn cookie. We’ll try to soften her up with sweets first.”
“Jesus. Aren’t you just a little bit afraid we’re going to screw that poor kid up?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Angel’s going to be just fine. She’s got the world’s greatest aunt and a pretty decent uncle.”
He ruffled her hair up as punishment for her joke.
“Plus, our little family of three has two beautiful guardian angels looking over us. We’re gonna be okay.”
Have you read the entire Wilder Irish series? All the books are standalone, so they can be read in any order. Be sure to check out all of them!
Wild Passion
Wild Desire
Wild Devotion
Wild at Heart
Wild Temptation
Wild Kisses
Wild Fire
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Turn the page to read the first chapter of Wild Desire, available now.
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AND…if you’d like to read more about Macie, Ty’s Collective and Sparks Barbeque, be sure to try the Sparks in Texas series.
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Sparks Fly – FREE
Waiting for You
Something Sparked
Off Limits
No Other Way
Whiskey Eyes
Wild Desire - Chapter One
Ailis sat on the couch and stared at the wall in front of her. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d gotten home, found the letter and assumed this zombie-like pose. Minutes? Hours? Days?
Her gaze dropped slightly, catching sight of the letter on the coffee table. She closed her eyes rapidly before any of the words formed in her brain. When she opened them again, she made certain she was looking up. At the wall. Only the wall. The wall was safe.
Part of her was waiting for tears. That was the natural response, the one most women would have succumbed to.
She’d just been dumped. Big time. In a horrible fucking letter.
However, instead of crying her heart out, screaming curses into the empty room, beating her fists against the couch cushions, all she could manage was this numb silence.
Typical. Even alone with her broken heart, she couldn’t find a way to express the pain with any semblance of noise or passion.
No wonder Paul had left.
The thought of his name worked. Triggered an emotion. Though it wasn’t sadness. It was resignation. She was an intelligent woman. If she looked back on the last six years reasonably, with a detached eye, she would have seen that they were a mismatch. It was obvious now.
Paul was driven, a climber. He was never going to be happy until he’d achieved every single goal he had set for himself. She knew that because she’d been there as he’d knocked a few off his list. He’d graduated top of his class at University of Maryland, where they’d met. He’d been accepted to Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. Then he’d gotten his residency at Hopkins, his dream job.
Ailis had been there beside him, either as a friend or a girlfriend, for nearly every part of that. She had been the perfect match for him during the college years because she’d enjoyed learning, and even though she wasn’t studying medicine, she’d helped Paul with his coursework. She was a stronger student, something Paul took advantage of as she basically co-wrote all his papers and helped him memorize countless facts about the body and diseases. The two of them joked that she had a medical degree without the diploma.
He craved attention, the limelight. When he was in the room, his sheer dominant presence ensured that all eyes were on him as he discussed politics or offered medical advice or told some funny story about the antics of the doctors at the hospital. He’d been president of every club he had ever joined.
And she’d been lingering in the background like some creepy shadow. He’d referred to her as his silent rock on more than one occasion. Like a stupid fool, she had considered that a compliment, thinking he needed her somehow.
Probably because the political and social views he espoused were the ones she’d discussed with him. She was the one watching the news, reading the papers, forming opinions. They’d talk at length about countless topics when they were alone at night. Then, in social settings, he’d use her lines, her comments, professing them as his own, and his equally shallow friends would be totally impressed by his insight.
Before tonight, she’d actually bragged about how lucky she was to find a man whose personal beliefs aligned so closely to hers.
Now, the blinders were off. And she didn’t like what she saw. She’d been a doormat.
Six years they’d been together. Eight, if she counted the two years prior to dating when they had simply been friends, hanging out in similar circles.
With Rhonda.
That name fired its own shots in her brain, evoked a different but just as powerful emotion. Rhonda had been her best friend since their freshman year of college when they’d been placed together as roommates in the dorm. That friendship had persevered and continued as they’d shared the same major and then, after graduation, been hired at the same marketing firm.
Rhonda was everything Ailis was not. Vivacious, lively, pretty. The life of every party. The fun one. She had been a solid C student, but she had the personality to overcome what she lacked in intelligence. How many times had she listened to friends and colleagues tease the two of them about opposites attracting? As loud and bubbly as Rhonda was, Ailis was the polar opposite. Quiet, introspective, calm.
People thought she was shy, but Ailis had never considered herself timid. In truth, she just didn’t feel the need to be the center of attention. She was perfectly capable of carrying on conversations one-on-one with strangers and business clients. But in larger social settings, she preferred to find a quiet corner to observe and analyze. People-watching was one of her favorite things to do. She always felt like she learned more about people by watching them than she did by talking to them.
Obviously, she’d been watching the wrong people. Or, perhaps, she’d been observing the right people, but interpreting what she’d seen incorrectly.
Because Paul hadn’t just left her. He’d left her for Rhonda.
Somewhere over the past few years, her boyfriend had fallen for her best friend. And she’d missed the signs. Completely.
That thought sent her gaze back to the letter. This time she forced herself to look at it. To let some of the words sink in.
You have no idea how difficult it is for me to write this letter to you, Ailis.
Yeah. Well. He should try it from her perspective. Because she was pretty sure reading it was way harder.
She glanced away again, taking in the living room of the apartment she shared with Paul. His departure had been deliberate, planned, well thought out. There were things missing. A lot of things. Though she hadn’t looked, she was willing to bet she would discover his dresser drawers and his half of the closet empty, his toiletries gone.
He’d been a very busy boy today while she was at work. Paul had quickly and efficiently erased himself from her life. In less than ten hours.
She resumed her study of the wall in front of her, too tired to think about this right now. Maybe she’d pull that bottle of wine out of the fridge and drink her way into oblivion. She could figure out the rest of her life tomorrow.
Unfortunately, standing up and walking to the kitchen required more energy than she could muster.
Then the silence was interrupted viciously by a loud banging on the front door. Ailis jerked at the unexpected sound, her heart racing at the sudden noise. “Shit,” she muttered, placing her trembling hand on her chest.
“Open the fucking door, Paul! Come out here, you goddamn prick!”
Ailis leaned back against the couch with a long sigh. Her day sucked enough. Adding Hunter Maxwell to it was like tossing salt into a gaping wound.
She didn’t move to answer the door. Maybe he’d think no one was home and go away.
“You have five seconds to open this door before I kick the motherfucker in, you son of a bitch!”
Ailis groaned as she rose. She didn’t doubt for a second he’d do exactly as he threatened. Which meant she’d be trying to figure out how to repair a doorframe at—she glanced at the clock—nine o’clock at night.
She’d been on the couch for three hours.
She unlocked the door and opened it, only just managing to step out of the path of the raging bull who didn’t wait for an invitation to come in.
“He’s not here,” she said simply, hoping that would be enough to send Hunter packing.
Hunter stormed down the hallway, looking in every room, muttering every foul name in the book, and a few she’d never heard.
Finally, satisfied Paul wasn’t there, he returned to the living room and, for the first time, he looked at her.
“What the fuck?!” His tone was complete bewilderment, mingled with absolute fury.
She shrugged, uncertain how to reply. It occurred to her, Hunter was actually the only other person on the planet who understood exactly how she felt at the moment. Because he’d been blindsided and taken down too.
That struck her as slightly funny in its irony. Primarily because she and Hunter had absolutely nothing else in common.
He reached into his jacket pocket and held out an envelope. “I found this when I got home.”
Ailis recognized Rhonda’s handwriting. Hunter had gotten a letter too. Been dumped exactly the same way she had.
He opened the envelope and pulled out an engagement ring. The one he’d given Rhonda only a few weeks ago, over the holidays. The one Rhonda had accepted with an excited squeal at their Friendsgiving celebration, everyone present, everyone thrilled as they offered their congratulations.
At the time, Ailis had been jealous of Rhonda, silently hoping that Paul took a page from Hunter’s book, surprising her with a ring at Christmas.
He hadn’t. Instead, he’d given her a cashmere sweater and a first-edition book of poetry she mentioned liking. Oh, and a freaking Starbucks gift card. As though he were her uncle rather than her boyfriend.
Ailis gestured toward the coffee table. “I got a letter too.”
She hadn’t intended her words as an invitation, but Hunter took them as such. He walked over, grabbed her letter and sank down into a chair to read it.
Part of her wanted to snatch it from his hands. It was personal, her own private hell.
But she understood as he read the words, his hands fisting the paper so tightly she thought it would tear, it wasn’t just her pain.
She and Rhonda had been tight since college, but Paul and Hunter had been the best of friends since elementary school. They’d grown up as neighbors and they were closer than brothers. She’d always wondered how that friendship had stuck whenever she studied the two of them together. Hunter was faded jeans, hoodies and a scruffy beard, a hippie with shaggy auburn hair and pale blue eyes, while Paul was starched collars and clean-shaven, preppy, the classical tall, dark and handsome. Hunter was takeout and horror movies. Paul was fancy restaurants and the theater. Yet somehow, for the past twenty-plus years, they’d found a common ground—their love of the same sports teams—that kept them connected. That and a shared history.
“What the fuck?” he muttered again as he put her letter back on the coffee table. He bent his head, his elbows resting on his knees.
Ailis walked over and resumed her spot on the couch. She wasn’t sure what to say. She and Hunter weren’t friends. It was closer to say they merely tolerated each other’s existence because they had to.
Hunter was the equivalent of a twenty-seven-year-old frat boy, despite the fact he’d never gone to college. He claimed high school had been more than enough for him. He partied too hard, laughed too loud, cussed like a sailor, and constantly teased her about being so quiet, calling her mouse, a nickname that annoyed her to no end. His idea of reading was flipping through magazines to look at the pictures. On more than one occasion, he’d seen her with a nose in a book and wondered aloud how she could waste so much time on something so boring. In his estimation, if a book was any good at all, they’d make it into a movie and he’d just watch that instead.
They had nothing in common except Paul and Rhonda.
And now, their broken hearts.
“You didn’t see it coming?” she asked, probably because that was what was bugging her the most. She considered herself astute. The idea that Paul had hidden his true feelings for Rhonda from her so well was driving her insane.
He shook his head. “No. I thought she was happy.” He looked up, his eyes dark with rage. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
While she was stuck in this weird state of numb devastation, Hunter’s reaction was completely different, of course. He was in a murderous rage, and for the first time since reading Paul’s letter, she was glad to know her former boyfriend was out of the state at the moment. It was probably the only thing saving his life.
Not that she took any pleasure in knowing he and Rhonda had gone full-on cliché and run away to Vegas together.
She’d been annoyed when Rhonda had called in sick today, knowing they were expected to give a very important presentation to potential clients at ten. Ailis had been stuck doing the whole thing on her own, which was nerve-racking as hell. Typically, Rhonda did the talking. Somehow she’d managed to get through it and they won the account.
